


Hell's Kittens

by CousinSerena



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinSerena/pseuds/CousinSerena
Summary: Crowley goes to the office and comes back to the bookshop with kittens.This is just a plotless bit of fluff that I wrote to fill a prompt, which was of course "kittens."
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 103





	Hell's Kittens

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fic for Discord server.
> 
> This work, especially the idea of Hellcats, was inspired by [ And I've Seen Your Flag on the Marble Arch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813814) by [ Cheesecloth ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth)

Saturday afternoon, right after closing time, was Aziraphale's favorite time to get going on his dusting and vacuuming. He tried to maintain the shop throughout the week but by the weekend, a fine layer of dust had usually settled over things, and this week he’d noticed several little tufts of animal hair that had settled against the baseboards. Some customers did insist on bringing their pets in.

Crowley had often pointed out to Aziraphale that he could simply miracle the dust away and that he was wasting his time cleaning the human way. But Aziraphale explained that it just wasn’t the same, he had to see the dust and dirt--and animal hair--get swept away by his own hands.

He’d just finished the dusting and was about to get out his trusty 1956 Electrolux vacuum cleaner when he heard the door open.

Since he’d locked it after putting the closed sign on the door, it could only mean Crowley. 

Sure enough he heard the familiar greeting of “Hey, angel!”

Crowley had just returned from an unpleasant appointment in Hell, his regular check-in at the office. He’d agreed to continue taking on the odd temptation on a contractor basis after the thwarted apocalypse.

Aziraphale had been surprised when Crowley had told him about the new side job, but Crowley had simply shrugged. “It’s a living,” he said. “Keeps me into trouble, you know.”

He was a bit earlier than usual today. He generally came around later in the afternoon when Aziraphale was done tidying and then they’d go for an early dinner followed by wine and conversation back at the bookshop.

“Just a moment, dear. Make yourself at home.” Of course the demon always made himself at home—on the sofa, or in the drinks cupboard, generally.

“I’m just finishing up dusting and then I’ll need to vacuum. Do you know that _twice_ this week, customers have come in with dogs, _not_ service dogs mind you, and both deposited a good deal of hair. I love all God’s creatures, of course, but I do wish they wouldn’t shed in my bookshop. I’m tempted to put up a No Animals Except Service Animals sign…”  


“Er, Angel, speaking of animals…”

He turned then to greet Crowley, who was holding what appeared to be a picnic basket.

“Oh, how ni--thoughtful. Did you pick up some goodies for a picnic? It is rather lovely outside today.”

“Well, not exactly.” Crowley stood shuffling his feet and not quite meeting Aziraphale in the eyes.

“Crowley? What’s in the basket? You look guilty.”

“Ng-well…I just ah…you know, it’s um…I got kittens.”

“You _what?"_

Crowley lifted the lid of the basket. Two pairs of eyes looked up at Aziraphale, one pair green and the other a glowing orange. The orange eyes belonged to a black bundle of fuzz, and the green pair belonged to a tiny striped tabby. Both kittens blinked up at Aziraphale and began mewing, the tiny little squeaks tugging at his heart despite the fact that he decidedly did not want pets in his bookshop.

“Crowley, what on Earth?”

“Well, you see, they…uh, they followed me home?”

“Is that a question? Because it very much does _not_ look like they followed you home.”

“Well, maybe they didn’t exactly follow me home. But I _had_ to bring them here, angel. My place is no good. Wrong aesthetic for kittens.”

“Crowley, tell me the truth. How did you come by the kittens?”

Aziraphale stood with his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised expectantly as Crowley continued to look down uncomfortably. He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep the smile off his face. He had to hear this story.

“Beelzebub gave them to me.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “The Lord of Hell gave you a _basket of kittens?_ ”

“Well not as such, no.” He sighed. “Okay, you know the Lobby, right? With the escalator, right? You go up, I go down? Well, not you anymore. But anyway, the point is, apparently a regular run of the mill tomcat followed somebody Downstairs. And one thing led to another, and it managed to impregnate a Hellcat. There were five kittens in the litter, three are properly Helly Hellcats, but these two are just regular cats like dad. Except this one has the glowing eyes. Well, what could I do, angel? Beelzebub said they’d never survive down there and I’m not dumping them at the shelter…” he trailed off and fixed Aziraphale with a most sorrowful and pleading stare.

“Crowley, honestly, the hair, the scratching of the furniture…have you even thought of all the things we’ll need to care for them? Food, for one thing.” As he spoke, however, without even registering it, Aziraphale had walked over to Crowley and lifted the little black kitten out of the basket. The kitten began purring and washing the angel’s hand with his little sandpapery tongue. He blinked his orange eyes at him and mewed.

The angel’s heart melted instantly and he knew the battle was over, as Crowley must have predicted—the fiend.

“Well, I suppose it _is_ rather a thing, now. Library cats, bookshop cats, that sort of thing. This little dark one reminds me a bit of a certain demon, actually,” said Aziraphale, glancing sidelong at Crowley. “He may look a bit frightening with those eyes, but he’s sweet and soft. We can call her A.J., yes we can,” he cooed as he cuddled the little furball.

Crowley sighed, but was too relieved to be insulted. He had won Aziraphale over. The angel was going to let them keep the cats.

He sat the basket down and lifted the plain tabby out, who dug his claws in and climbed painfully up Crowley’s trousers. Crowley pried him off and held him, and the kitten began mewing loudly.

“This one seems like a troublemaker. We’ll call her Azzie.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Probably going to get into the cupboards looking for food and get trapped. Need rescuing,” Crowley teased. 

They each sat their kitten down on the rug and watched as they wrestled and played with each other.

“You know, Crowley, you’ll have to come around far more often now that we’re to be joint cat parents.”

“I think I can agree to that arrangement, angel.”

Crowley had gone soft, but he supposed he wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
